


But the monsters turned out to be just trees (Are we out of the woods yet?)

by KeepGoing



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Blowjobs, DEREK DOESNT THINK HE DESERVES NICE THINGS, DEREK IS A LONER, DEREK SAVES CORA WITH HIS ALPHA SPARK AFTERMATH, DEREK WORKS THROUGH HIS ISSUES, Derek POV, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, NO NOGISTUNE, OR THE WORD NO, Post 3a, Post-Nemeton, SNEAKY PACK, STILES CAN FEEL THE DARKNESS, STILES DOESNT UNDERSTAND PERSONAL SPACE, STILES GOES TO DEREK FOR COMFORT, Slow Build, Spark!Stiles, THE PACK IS ALL IN ON IT, THE PACK IS TEAM STILES/DEREK, allison is alive, handjobs, mentions of Kate Argent, no kira
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-22
Updated: 2016-02-22
Packaged: 2018-05-22 16:15:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6086323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KeepGoing/pseuds/KeepGoing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek’s lost a part of himself. And he just doesn't mean the color of his eyes.  He’s lost the last speck of trust he had in this world and the people in it. He’s lost any last hope that his life wouldn't always be consumed with the taste of ash on his tongue and the smell of blood in his clothes.</p>
<p>
  <i>“I’m a coward? I’m here aren't I?” Derek snaps his jaws forward, towards Stiles. </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>“Give the werewolf a medal! He climbed through a fucking window.” Stiles rolls his eyes, goes to turn away and then stops himself. “You know what? Fuck you. You are a coward. I practically threw myself at you-”</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>“That’s what this is about? The kiss?” Derek scoffs. </i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	But the monsters turned out to be just trees (Are we out of the woods yet?)

  
  


*************************************************************

The wall is cold against his back and his normal high body temperature hasn't quite caught back up with itself yet.

Derek’s lost a part of himself. And he just doesn't mean the color of his eyes. He’s lost the last speck of trust he had in this world and the people in it. He’s lost any last hope that his life wouldn't always be consumed with the taste of ash on his tongue and the smell of blood in his clothes. His existence is made up of failures, disappointments and regrets.

But he is grateful in this moment. People shuffle by him, consumed in their own tasks, thoughts and problems. But he can see Scott, Allison and Stiles up the hallway, all talking in hushed voices. He could hear them; if he wanted to; but he will leave this moment to them and them only. 

They need it. They’ve been through a lot too the past few days. And truth is, Derek isn't a part of their relief. Their few and far between moments of peace. He was thrown into their lives by a force stronger than fate. 

Chaos. 

But The Sheriff, Argent and Ms. Mccall are all alright. And to Derek that's one tiny victory in a river of total shit. 

He catches Stiles’ glance and he turns to look down the hallway toward Derek. He isn't sure if Stiles was looking for someone else, or something else; the constant fear etched inside him now that anything could be lurking behind him; or if Stiles was in fact looking to see if Derek was still in the same place the rest of them had left him when they entered the hospital. 

It's something Derek could dwell on; dissect until it doesn't even exist anymore; but he chooses not to. He just gives the teenager; a term he uses loosely lately with Stiles; a small nod and even though it was not an invitation for him to come over or to acknowledge Derek’s presence any more than he already had, he gives Scott a small pat on the back before heading over to Derek. 

Derek lets out a loud sigh when the boy strides up next to his side. Stiles gives him a lopsided look, concern in his eyes. 

“So Cora’s okay?” He asks without wasting anytime. Stiles never does. His inability to understand and accept personal space and information was something that Derek finds infuriating but it also makes him an essential part of the pack. A pack Derek had always wanted to be in charge of, but he lost that privilege and right a long time ago, way before his Alpha spark dwindled into saving his sister. 

“Yeah.”

Stiles flails his hands, giving Derek that pointed, typical Stiles look where his face contorts and he stands waiting for Derek to elaborate, which Stiles knows, in his hearts of hearts, that Derek never has and never will. Derek just raises an eyebrow at him and crosses his arms over his chest and so begins the emotional and verbal standoff that he and Stiles had been dueling at for a while now. 

Derek can tell Stiles is having an internal battle inside his head, trying to figure out the exact right words to say in this moment. There are many things Stiles could comment on; Jennifer, and Derek’s stupidity for not only sleeping with her but actually caring about her too. Even worse, trusting that she cared for him. He could ask more questions about Cora; how she survived, why and when. He could comment on Peter; where was he now, what part did he play in all this because Stiles isn't stupid and he knows Peter always has some underlying effect on anything that happens in Beacon Hills. He could comment, again, on what happened with Boyd even though Derek has made it very clear he doesn't want to talk about it. Ever. 

Or Stiles could go into detail about how he, Scott and Allison saved their parents; more detail than Scott gave him which was vague to say the least. 

Stiles is definitely wrestling with what to say next and when he opens his mouth the words that spill out are more than a little disturbing. 

“It's not your fault.”

Derek cringes visibly and turns his gaze away from Stiles creased forehead and caring eyes. He’s trusted enough people with that look. And it's no secret he and Stiles have always had a hate and tolerance type of relationship. Scott never trusted Derek; but never minded using his knowledge in fight or death situations. Derek has always been a fuck up. Everything he touches turns to ash or blood and Scott and Stiles and everyone else had every right not to count on Derek to save the day in the right way. That was Scott’s department. 

And now with Scott’s new Alpha status and Derek’s diminished one, everyone would just fall into line behind the once and true Alpha and Derek won't blame them. He can't. Derek’s never brought anything to the table but broken promises and a trail of dead bodies behind him. So he knows damn well why no one trusts him. 

But Stiles is the only one in the group who really knows why Derek returns the favor. Why Derek cringes and pulls back whenever someone shows the slightest form of touch. Why Derek could be taking Jennifer’s betrayal harder than just due to the fact that she fooled everyone by seeming like an innocent English teacher when in fact she was out sacrificing people for her own vengeful agenda. 

No, it’s because Derek had fallen into bed, once again, with the enemy. 

So Stiles’ comment could be directed toward one of the thousands mistakes he’s made over the course of time he has known Stiles. From Scott getting bit up until this last fiasco. It honestly didn't matter which event Stiles was commenting on. Because it doesn't matter what Stiles says, Derek doesn't trust words anymore. Or actions.

He doesn't even trust himself. 

So Derek says nothing after Stiles outburst of brain vomit and Stiles continues to give him that typical look where he’s waiting for answers to questions about the meaning of life and how dare no one know the answer. Derek just huffs and pushes himself off the wall with his shoulders, arms still crossed, and mouth still turned downward. 

“I’m glad you’re Dad is okay.”

It's a heavy handed comment. Derek knows that. Its meaning weighed down with a thousand underlying tones that Derek just doesn't have the energy to get into a long winded conversation about tonight. 

But Stiles seems to take it, just like Derek meant it, complications and all. He gives Derek a soft nod and Derek hears the sincerity in his voice, even though he doesn't trust it, as he walks away. 

“I’m glad you’re okay, too.”

 

***~~***

 

“You have to help him.”

Derek pinches the bridge of his nose while Stiles follows him around the loft, arms flailing around, voice high pitched and pleading, which is a bit out of character for him. Derek keeps walking in circles hoping it will make Stiles dizzy and it will cause him to have to sit down because all of Stiles energy makes Derek nervous and just being around people still, in general, makes him on edge and right now he could cut through steel with his teeth he’s so damn anxious. 

“I don't have to do anything.”

Stiles makes a loud and obnoxious sound from the pit of his stomach out through his mouth and throws his arms in the air. Again. “You are seriously the most difficult person I have ever met.”

“Thanks.” Derek picks up the book he had been enjoyable reading before Stiles barged into the loft with his ridiculous demands. “Now if you will excuse me, I’m going to get back to MY LIFE now.”

Stiles looks around the loft, his mouth on the verge of another sentence Derek knows is going to annoy him more than the last. 

“Where’s Cora?”

Derek cringes slightly. “South America.”

“South America? But why-” 

Derek glares at Stiles; his eyes warning him not to go any further. Stiles follows the instructions from Derek’s eyes, but the inevitable happens and Stiles just opens his mouth yet again. 

“You know I get it. This whole loner thing. With everything you’ve been through. After my mom died everyone just wanted to help so much, cheer me up-”

“I don't need cheering up. I need you to get out.”

“Everyone wanted to cheer me up,” Stiles continues. “But I just needed some time for myself. So yeah with Boyd, and Erica and Ms. Blake-”

“Could you fucking not?!” Derek screams, his eyes flashing a color Stiles hasn't seen in a long time.

“Wha-What the hell was that?” Stiles asks, like the wind was just knocked out of him. He takes a full step back, as if he’d never seen a werewolf before. But this wasn't fear. It was shock. And then when he steps forward, even closer than he was before, with that Goddamn look of concern on his face, again, it makes Derek snap his teeth at him.

“Stiles, get out.”

“Is that how you saved Cora? Huh? Is she the Alpha now?” Stiles voice has dropped like 40 decibels and he genuinely looks concerned but Derek doesn't need it. Nor does he trust it. 

“Scott. Scott is the Alpha now. And he’s your Alpha. So whatever kind of crisis he is having he needs to figure it out, on his own.” Derek slams his book down on the long wooden table by the windows he stands in front of for hours every night. Sometimes until the sun comes up, taunting him to start another day all over again. 

“Derek, you’re all alone. I mean when is the last time you’ve even seen Isaac?”

“He chose Scott. Which is fine because I’m not an Alpha anymore so there really is no point is there? It's just how it works. But he chose Scott a long time ago. Before I even…” Derek trails off, closing his eyes in case they decide to flash again, just to add even more irony to the conversation. “It was Isaac’s choice where he wanted to be. He chose.”

“And what about you? You gonna be a lone wolf now? Stay here in this loft with your creepy Uncle lurking around? Which where the fuck is he by the way?” Stiles is flailing again, but at least he isn't yelling this time. 

“I. Don’t. Know.”

Stiles sighs. “You can't be by yourself, Derek. You don't do well by yourself.”

Derek’s narrows his eyes at the teenager and gets fiercely close to his face. “Why do you care so much, Stiles? You don't trust me. I don't trust you. You never really gave a shit about me. I fucked up everything. You see that, don't you?”

“You didn't fuck up everything. Not everything is your fault, Derek. No matter how much you feel the need to take the blame. Just because some bad crap has happened to you in the past, things you feel you could have prevented, doesn't mean that every bad thing that happens from then on is your fault.”

“And not every bad thing that happens is your responsibility to fix!” Derek spits back. Stiles eyes widen. 

“I don't think that.” Stiles whispers. 

“Bullshit.” Derek takes a step back. “You wanna play psycho analyze? We can play psychoanalyze. You think since you couldn't fix your mother, you couldn't save her, you have this debilitating need to save everyone around you. And fix everyone's problems. That's why you’re always up all night researching. Or putting yourself in danger when you shouldn't be.” Stiles face falls. “So yeah, maybe I blame myself for everything but that's because I fucking caused the bad shit that's happened. You didn't cause your mother to get sick. It just happened. Cancer sucks. It's a stupid human disease and I’m sorry there was nothing that could have been done to save her. But that's not on you, Stiles. That’s just fucking science.”

There are tears in Stiles’ honey brown eyes now and it makes Derek angry down to his very core. Not because Stiles is on the verge of breaking down crying but because Derek knows that Stiles’ eyes aren't just brown. That they have speckles of yellow all throughout them causing them to shimmer like freshly poured honey into a glass jar. Because with his eyes shining like that from newly fresh tears, it's like looking at honey in a jar. 

Derek shouldn't care what color eyes Stiles has. He shouldn't care that Stiles is crying, even if his own words are what made him do so. But it's just one more thing that Derek can add to his diabolical pile of guilt. It’s gotten much bigger since he met Stiles that afternoon in the woods and he knows the longer Stiles stays in his life the pile will just continue to grow so out of control that not even fire will be able to incinerate it to ashes. 

“You should go.” Derek ends with after tears have finally decided to fall onto pale cheeks. 

“You don't need to be alone, Derek.” Stiles chokes out, his repetition of words causing Derek’s skin to itch. With irritation. With annoyance. And yearning. 

Derek doesn't want to be alone. But Stiles is wrong. He needs to be. This way he won't keep making the same mistakes. This way he won't neglect to see the truth, the evil, behind beautiful eyes. He doesn't think Stiles is evil but Stiles has the kind of eyes that would make Derek have a lapse in judgement and it would turn his world even more upside down. 

Stiles eyes could make Derek make the kind of mistake that could set the world on fire.

And Derek’s lost enough to fire. 

“Go, Stiles.” Derek requests again, trying hard this time now to sound like the dick he is so used to being. Stiles is hurt, again, by Derek’s words and actions and he just doesn't have it in him anymore to administer any comfort. Not that he wanted to even if he could. 

“I don't want you to be alone.”

Derek literally rolls his eyes. He does not mean to, but it's his knee jerk reaction these days to acts of kindness and care. It has to be, because if he lets down his guard for even a second he may start to care or God forbid trust, and that's just not something Derek is built to do anymore. 

“Could you NOT be such a FUCK for like half a second?” Stiles screams. He screams so loud in fact is bounces off the emptiness of the loft and Derek’s insides, vibrating into the floorboards and Derek’s stomach. 

“A...fuck?” Derek asks as he folds his arms across his chest. It’s his armor. Because he knows there is an attack about to take place. 

“Yeah. A fuck. Which is what you are. With your guilt and fear and sadness. But you know what else you have? A heart. And a brain. And strength. And I don't mean the muscles you spend 20 out of the 24 hours in the day building. I mean in there.” Stiles lunges forward, pushing at Derek’s chest. It doesn't even make Derek stagger in his stance. Which just infuriates Stiles more. 

“Why are you still here, Stiles? I already told you I wasn't going to help Scott with his shifting problem. That's something he is going to need to figure out on his own. Just like I did. And you’re crying because I struck a nerve and spoke about your mother which I am sure you haven't done in quite some time. And I don't want or need you or anyone else here to tell me how much I shouldn't be alone or how I shouldn't feel guilty or whatever other kind of crap you can spew at me. Because the bottom line is Stiles, nothing you say is going to make me feel any different. We can't have some bro to bro talk like you do with Scott and then go play Lacrosse together. I’m not in high school. And I’m not your friend. I’m just a guy who got thrown into your life by some sick joke that no one is laughing at.”

Stiles blinks, his tears gone now but his cheeks crusted with dry tear marks. He isn't moving and Derek considers literally throwing him out, but Stiles is already too close, he’s always been just too close, too convenient, too adjacent to everything else in Derek’s fucking life. Stiles is already in this life; choosing to stick by Scott’s side through everything; he didn’t need to choose to do it with Derek too. He doesn't need that from Stiles, no matter how badly he may want it. 

And its thoughts like those that reassures Derek that Stiles needs to go. Now. And not come back. 

“Now, I want you to go.”

Stiles shakes his head in a childish way, and Derek half expects him to stop his foot any second in protest. 

Derek grabs Stiles by his arm, hard, and he knows it's maybe a bit too hard because Stiles makes a strangled meep sound and then a series of Ow’s as Derek drags him to the loft door. He slides it open roughly and pushes Stiles, also roughly out into the hallway. Stiles staggers for a moment before glaring at him. 

“Don't come back.” The door clangs shut and Derek leans his forehead against the cold metal, causing a shiver to run through his body.

He still hasn't been able to regulate his body temperature. 

 

***~~***

 

“Did you build that?”

The next time Derek sees Stiles; or the next time Stiles lets himself into the loft with no regard to personal space or the words “Don’t come back”; he looks a little worn around the edges. Maybe a bit more than little. He looks tired. Like he hasn't slept in weeks. Or eaten. It concerns Derek on levels that terrifies him. 

“Yeah. Just something I’ve been doing lately.” He eyes the coffee table Stiles is running his pale fingers gingerly over. Stiles looks up at him. Derek raises an eyebrow. 

“You look like shit.”

Stiles stands, pulling his hands into the sleeves of his sweatshirt. “Yeah, well. You sacrifice yourself to a supernatural tree to save the life of the most important parents in Beacon Hills, it has some effects on you.”

“I would have done the same thing if it makes you feel any better.” Derek isn't sure why he said it. He isn't even sure he means it entirely and the whole saying things to make someone else feel less pain or regret is just curiously peculiar. 

“Well we both have this thing in common where we sacrifice ourselves for the people we care about.” Stiles huffs out small laugh as his gaze around anxiously for something else to land on so he can change the subject. Derek knows that look. It might even be a look Derek taught him without knowing it. 

“Why don't you sit down? You look like you’re about to fall over.” Derek points to the couch and Stiles looks behind him before sitting down gently onto the cushions. 

“Why the sudden change in fuckness?” Stiles yawns and stretches his arms over his head causing his sweatshirt to bunch up along with his t-shirt. Derek was right. Stiles had lost weight. Too much weight. 

“I know the weight of decisions that come with a heavy price.” Derek mumbles. 

“That was beautiful. Really. Quite poetic.” Stiles smirks and Derek wonders when the last time Stiles smiled was. Derek just continues to eye him. 

“What can I do for you, Stiles?”

Stiles sighs and rubs the palms of his hands, still covered with the cuffs of his hoodie, over his denimed legs. “Guess I just wanted to be around someone who wouldn't look at me like I’m some kind of wounded animal. Who wouldn't ask me every 10 minutes how I’m feeling. Someone who wouldn't coddle me; afraid I’m going to break at any moment.”

“This about your dad?”

Stiles nods. 

“He’s worried about you. He knows what you did to save him, it's obvious you aren’t sleeping or eating. He feels guilty. His need to protect you comes from guilt. Everything in this world comes from guilt, Stiles. When are you going to learn that?” Derek walks to the fridge grabbing a bottle of water. He throws it on the cushion next to Stiles and goes back to his normal arm crossed over chest stance. Stiles doesn't even acknowledge the water. He’s just staring at the coffee table. 

Derek wants to tell him to leave. That his loft isn't a safe haven for fucked up youth, even though he knows that's a huge lie. But he can't help Stiles. He can't even help himself. How can he tell Stiles how to get through anything that is happening to him when Derek can barely function day to day with his own baggage? 

But there is something about Stiles demeanor. The way he is holding himself that reminds Derek of someone. 

Himself. 

All those years ago trying to process how his family was gone and he was the cause. That his gullibility and need to be loved caused him to fall into bed with the first pretty face, after Paige, that showed him the tiniest bit of attention. How every mistake he has made from that point on was all based on his own insecurities. His own loneliness. 

Stiles was the first, before Isaac to call him out on his own self-loathing. But Isaac’s words to him still echo between the walls of the loft; haunting him at night when he is unable to sleep. 

 

_**Why'd you do this to us, Derek? Was it all about the power? Were you bored? Were you lonely?** _

 

The answer bounces off the walls along with the questions. Yes. To all of them. 

“Stiles, you can't hide here forever.”

“I know. But just for a little while, okay?” He pulls his knees up under his chin and closes his baggy eyes. “I won't stay long. I promise.”

 

***~~**

 

Stiles never really leaves.

Sure he goes home from time to time because well he resides legally at the place where his father pays the bills, but Stiles is staying with Derek. He sleeps there; mostly just naps in the afternoon, but on the nights when his Dad is working the overnight he sleeps on the couch, curled up around himself. He tells Derek that on the nights he has to go home to sleep because he can't tell his Dad he’s been spending all his time with Derek Hale and not Scott or Lydia that he actually doesn't sleep at all. Which is why he is back the next afternoon, not even bothering to knock anymore, and goes right to the couch to lie down. 

Derek leaves him alone. They barely talk. But he feeds Stiles; grilled cheese, soup; simple stuff he can prepare on a hot plate. But they don't speak. Stiles sleeps, does homework or research and Derek either reads or exercises. 

Derek would be lying if he said he doesn’t enjoy the scent of someone else in the loft. That the body of someone else around him doesn’t comfort him in ways he didn’t even know he was missing. But he never says those things out loud. He barely allows himself to think it. 

Stiles wakes up sometimes screaming. He always apologizes afterwards, looking embarrassed and ready to flee at any moment. But it doesn't faze Derek. He’s used to nightmares. Nightmares so vivid that after he regains full consciousness he swears he can still smell the smoke in the room. Stiles never goes into detail about what haunts his brain in sleep but Derek doesn't need to know. Demons are demons and if there is one thing he and Stiles share it's the things that lurk in the dark that taunt them when they close their eyes. 

He just gives Stiles some water and waits for him to calm down. His ache to hold the teenager overwhelms him; if he had someone years ago...Christ even now...to comfort him maybe he wouldn't be the way he is now; but he has no right. Stiles has other people who should be doing that for him. But the question is...where are they? And why isn't Stiles when them instead of finding shelter in a wolf’s den?

Stiles brings his laptop over now; writing papers or looking up things on Wikipedia while he chews on his thumbnail till it's bloody. There are reminders of Stiles’ presence all over the loft now; candy wrappers, socks (because Stiles has this need to take his socks off when he comes over, but never bothers to put them back on like he is purposely doing it. It's maddening) and forgotten homework. One morning Derek finds himself parked outside Beacon Hills High School, leaning up against the side of the Highlander; waiting for Stiles to roll up in the piece of shit jeep he refuses to ever get rid of. Derek knows why. It was his mother's. Its why the Camaro is now in storage. It was Laura’s. 

Stiles smirks when he sees Derek holding out a bunch of papers toward him as he walks casually over, like they do this all the time and its normal. All of this that has been happening is far from normal but neither of them seem to comment on it. Ever. 

Derek is gone before he can get even more side eyed looks from teenagers as they walk past them the wheels turning inside their minds as to why this man is here to see Stiles. 

And before Scott gets there. 

Derek buys a TV at target, 3 weeks after Stiles starting coming to the loft. Stiles had mentioned one night about missing The Walking Dead but not wanting to go home ‘quite yet.’ 

Derek also gets cable. 

He never watches the TV. It's only turned on when Stiles is there. 

He’s okay with that. 

The 4th Sunday after Stiles started coming to the loft, Stiles is curled up on the couch, hands inside the sleeves of his sweatshirt, eyes wide as he watches the TV. 

“I TOLD YOU GLENN WASN'T DEAD!” He screams, flailing his hands toward the TV as he looks between Derek, who is reading next to him, and the program Derek just can't seem to get into. The whole thing is just not realistic. 

When he told Stiles this, all he did was look at him mouth agape and states “But Werewolves are?”

It made Derek smile for the first time in months. 

“Mmm.” Is all Derek musters out. 

“What are you reading?” Stiles asks during a commercial. 

“Moby Dick.”

“Seriously?”

Derek turns to look at him. They usually don't talk. Ever. But Derek notices that the circles around Stiles’ eyes are starting to fade and the muscle that a 17-year-old Lacrosse player should have is starting to reappear. 

It makes Derek feel...something. Helpful? Maybe. But either way the feelings that wash over are foreign to him. His instinct to run is crushing. Stiles is too close. Mentally and physically. 

“Yes, Stiles. Seriously. Watch your show.”

Stiles does, yelling at the TV, gasping the entire hour that it is on. When it's over he groans, his head falling back against the couch. “Why is this show so damn good!?”

Derek turns, raising an eyebrow at him. “That’s what you call it?”

Stiles just rolls his eyes. “Such a sour wolf.”

Something inside Derek shifts at those words. It terrifies him, the intensity of the jolt he feels course through his veins. It reminds him of a time when he still had hope that things might work out. Where he had faith in himself. Where he might be able to have faith in others again. Trust. 

A time when Stiles was still a clueless kid with no idea of what was to come. Of what he’d have to go through. What he’d have to sacrifice. His safety. His sanity. His youth. His innocence. 

Stiles reads his expression and cocks his head slightly. “Been a while, huh? Since I called you that. I almost forgot I did.”

Derek nods. “It's fine. I must have forgotten too.”

Stiles stands, stretching his arms over his head. “I guess I’ll get going. Don’t want to interrupt your reading.”

“You're not interrupting anything.” Derek spits out quickly and shuts his mouth with snap of his teeth. “Is your Dad working overnight?”

“Actually he’s out of town. He went up to Washington. Ever since he found out about all this Supernatural crap, he’s been looking into other cases that have gone unsolved. He’s up there trying to help another sheriff shed some light on some recent murders.” He pauses, eyes wide. “Not that he’s going to tell anyone anything. Just...help. I guess. With a new set of eyes.”

“I know your father wouldn't put any of us in danger. He’s not that kind of man.” Derek pauses this time. “You take after him that way.”

“Were you like your Dad?” Stiles asks sitting back down gingerly on the couch. Derek knows the chance Stiles is taking by asking. His heartbeat picks up and skips a few times; he's nervous. And scared. Of all the times Derek has fought next to Stiles side; all the times Stiles has been in mortal danger; Derek never senses any kind of fear off Stiles. But in this moment, from one simple question about Derek’s family, Stiles is terrified. 

It says so much. About the both of them. 

“Yes. I’m more like my father than I am my mother.” Derek sets his book down on the other side of him on the couch. Stiles is turned toward him and Derek has to swallow a few times to get rid of his scent in his throat. “My mother was brave. She did what she had to do, no matter the cost. She was a born leader. She was a master negotiator. She had all the packs in perfect unison. No fights for territory. She had all them working together against the hunters. Everyone trusted her.” Derek huffs out a small laugh. “I’m nothing like her.”

“Are you kidding me right now?”

Derek blinks. “What?”

“Derek, you’re all of those things. You’re one of the bravest people I’ve ever met. You’re always stepping in to help. You feel like you need to be the one to fight on the front line all the time. You got a bunch of teenagers to let you turn you into werewolves and they followed you. No matter what.”

“No. Erica and Boyd left. They left because I was a terrible Alpha. I was never meant to be an Alpha. I knew that. My mother knew it. Christ, even Peter and Laura knew it. Erica got killed because I wasn't the leader I should have been for her. And Boyd? That's also my fault. If I hadn't been so hungry for power, to try to follow in my mother's footsteps, the Alpha pack never would have come here. And Isaac doesn’t trust me. Its why he’s with Scott. And he was with Scott long before I gave up my spark to save Cora.” Derek takes a deep breath. “No one followed me out of choice. I forced them to.”

“You never forced me.”

Derek just stares at him. 

“You didn't. I followed you because I trusted you.” Stiles says it so matter of factly it makes Derek’s skin crawl. And not because he doesn't believe him. It’s because he DOES.

“You shouldn't.” Derek whispers. “Everything I touch, burns.”

“I’ve always liked fire.”

The comment should make Derek seethe with anger. The words should shake him to very core of his existence. But it doesn't. For years he’s been afraid to step into the fire; to set anything a blaze because of the ashes still stuck in his throat from past mistakes. But now Derek realizes he was just afraid to let anyone set him on fire. 

And no one has. 

Not like Stiles. 

Jennifer happened because he was lonely. Because he was making mistakes and she lessened the pain if only for a little while. He allowed her into his world so she could comfort him. He used her just as much as she used him. Different outcome; same results. 

Fire. 

He set everything on fire and she was his kerosene. 

But this, right now in this moment wasn't Derek burning anything down around him.

Stiles was the flame now, and as scared as Derek still is of fire, he’s never wanted to burn as much as he does right now. 

“Stiles…” Derek sighs out. “You have a lot going on right now, and it actually makes me feel good that I’ve been able to offer some sort of solace for you. But being around me isn't the right thing for you. Two broken people won't make each other better. In the end all you have is two broken people and more sadness.”

“I feel like you are the only one that understands.” Stiles brings his hands into his sleeves and it actually makes Derek’s chest ache. He’s retreating back into himself, just when he felt like Stiles was crawling out from underneath everything. 

“I do, but you really think that I’m going to be able to help you? With anything? I can barely function myself, Stiles. I don't trust anyone. I have no pack. My psychotic uncle is still out there somewhere. And it should tell you something about me, that I’m here. Alone. No one trusts me.”

“I do.”

“Like I said before, you shouldn't.”

“Too late.”

“You can stay here tonight, but after that you need to find your own way to work through this. I’m enabling your seclusion. Don't take after me. You have too much ahead of you.” Derek stands, but is halted by Stiles fingers wrapped tightly around his wrist. He looks down at the grasp and swallows. 

“Don't you get it? I’m better when I’m with you. I don't understand it. And I know you like having me here. Fuck, Derek you bought a God damn TV for me. And you probably don't even understand why!” Stiles is standing now. Flailing. Yelling. Pacing. So very much like Stiles. 

“No, I understand why.”

Stiles eyes widen slightly. “Oh. Okay. Care to fill me in?”

“I just wanted you to be happy.” Derek shrugs. It's the simplest answer. And the most truthful. 

“You...really?” Stiles seems shocked and Derek isn't quite sure why. Stiles has love in his life. Stiles has people who would die for him. Who have died loving him with everything they have. But then Derek realizes it's not that Stiles isn't used to people caring that way for him. It’s that Stiles isn't used to DEREK caring about him that way. 

And neither is Derek. He realizes; like smoke clearing from a gutted burnt down house; with the echo of Stiles’ heartbeat in his ears and vibrating off his skin, that all this time he was looking for someone, something to fill the void he has had since he lost his family. Kate, Jennifer, the pack he tried to build, Cora...all of them were never able to make him FEEL again like Stiles does. 

Because none of them ever tried to understand the pain he had been carrying around for so long. The pack tried; they were tied to him by a different kind of bond, all of them with their own sadness buried deep inside them that radiating between them all. But Stiles didn't hold that kind of bond with Derek; he understood better than anyone. Better than Derek even could.

“What do you want from me, Stiles?” Derek chokes out. There it is. His insecurity. The constant fear that someone is just out to get something out of him. Because how could anyone just care about Derek and not have an underlying reason for pretending? 

Stiles shrugs and Derek feels his heart sink into the pit of his stomach. 

“How about just you? We’ve been doing well so far, I think.”

Derek swallows but he feels like all the air in the room has been sucked out through Stiles’ words and his throat is dry and breathing is apparently a problem now. And then to make matters even worse, Stiles decides right then would be the perfect time to kiss him. 

It's a quick lean in peck, but its lips on lips none the less. It was still initiated and received. 

Stiles pulls back just as quickly as he leaned in and his eyes are wide he winces visibly like he’s waiting for Derek to rip his throat out. With his teeth. 

Old habits die hard.

Derek just blinks and he brings the tips of his fingers to his lips, the tingle of contact still there like a ghost. 

“I shouldn't have done that.” Stiles says quickly. “Fuck, I’m sorry. You’re gonna kill me now right? Shit, you are. Oh God, I’m so stupid.”

“Shut up, Stiles.”

Stiles closes his mouth, lips pursed together, as if shutting up was physically hurting him. 

It's silent for a long time. They are on a physically standoff with each other; Derek is afraid Stiles will either try to kiss him again or leave; neither of which he wants Stiles to do. 

And Derek thinks Stiles is probably just waiting for him to either kick him out or kill him. Again, neither of which Derek wants to do. 

But the problem is, what Derek really wants to do, he can't. Oh physically he is capable, but it's the emotional and moral part that he is having trouble handling. Derek can handle his physical need. But the emotional need he is feeling; the need to take Stiles into his arms and kiss him the way his body is yearning for; yeah, that's the problem. 

Stiles should go home. He should sleep in his own bed learn how to be alone in his own skin. Derek has. Sort of. 

That is until Stiles somehow weaseled his way into Derek’s life and his loft and never. fucking. left. 

“I’m going to try something. And I want you to stay perfectly still. Don’t move.” Derek warns Stiles as he takes a step toward him.

“Okay, Edward Cullen.”

“Huh?”

“Never mind.” Stiles whispers, and then holds his breath. Derek wraps his large hands around his face and presses an open mouthed kiss onto Stiles’. Stiles meeps low in his throat and then moans, a bit too pornographically. Derek takes his time, mapping out every millimeter of Stiles lips, every taste that seers into his tongue from Stiles; juicy fruit gum, the spaghetti he ate for lunch at school, cherry Pepsi. And the medicinal hint of Adderall. After a long passionate kiss, with a few short pecks at the end, Derek pulls back, dropping his hands at his side. Stiles eyes are still closed and his mouth still hanging open as if Derek was still kissing him. 

When he realizes his mouth is no longer covered, Stiles eyes flutter open and Derek almost gasps at the color that is flickering in his irises.

Silver.

“What?” Stiles asks, the color fading just as fast as it appeared. 

“N-Nothing. Just...nothing.” Derek swallows. “You should go.”

“I should go? But you just-”

“GO. NOW.” The ground shakes as Derek yells. Stiles doesn't flinch, but Derek can see the pain in his eyes. It makes his wolf whine. 

“Fuck you, Derek. Fuck you.”

 

***~~***

 

“Silver you said?”

“Yes. Silver.”

Deaton rummages around in a drawer as Derek stands, arms crossed, a few feet from him. 

“And what was he doing when his eyes turned Silver?” Deaton asks, turning around with a vial of something in his hand. Derek sighs. 

“Does it matter?” He pauses. “What’s in the vial?”

“Very much, actually. A spark can be ignited for many reasons. It feeds off a variety of many different emotions. Each spark is different. Each one craves different things in order to catch fire. I’ve never been able to tell what ignites Stiles.” Deaton leans onto the metal table in front of him. “So yes, Derek. It is important for you to tell me.” Deaton shakes the vial. “And this? Nothing for you. It's to help Scott. Since I hear you refuse.”

Derek just rolls his eyes and sighs heavily.

“So are you going to tell me what was transpiring when this happened or have you just come here to catch up?” 

Derek gives Deaton a pointed look. He refuses the say the words out loud. Deaton’s a smart man. He can figure it out. 

“Oh.” Deaton smirks a little. “Well, that makes sense.”

“Does it now?” Derek snarks back. 

“Of course. Especially since Stiles is going to be an emissary.” Deaton says so casually it's almost condescending. 

Derek raises an eyebrow and unfolds his arms. He takes a few steps forward and is now staring at Deaton from across the table. “You’re kidding right?”

“Don’t tell me you haven't considered it. Had a tiny inkling that it was a possibility?” Deaton runs his fingers over the vile that is sitting in the middle of the table. “Almost wished for it?”

“He’s been through enough. He doesn't need this.”

“You can't fight destiny, Derek. You must see that by now. Everything that has happened...it was all a part of a greater design beyond our control. You can take different roads, make different choices, alter details...but you will always end up right where you were meant to. And so will he. He was meant to be in those woods that night with Scott. Just like you were meant to be the next day to meet him.” Deaton gives Derek a small smirk. 

“Fine. So he’s meant to be an emissary. He’s Scotts then, right?”

Deaton laughs. “From a bird's eye view, it does seem that way. And in a way he already is Scott’s emissary. But that wasn’t the road he was supposed to take. You giving your Alpha spark in order to save Cora was a road you decided to go down and fate may be off course for a while, but destiny always corrects itself. And it seems to be doing that right now.”

“I’m not an Alpha anymore. I don't need an emissary. And Scott has an emissary. You. So Stiles doesn't need to do this. His fate could change. He could choose to get out of this town and never look back. It's what he should do!” Derek’s yelling now, his claws scraping against the metal of table in front of him. 

“He could. But he will always end up coming back here. Not for Scott. Or his father. He will always end up coming back to you.” Deaton sighs a little. “I know you don't trust me. You didn't even trust me when I was your mother's emissary. But I know things about your family, about your fate...more than you think I do. And you don't have to believe me. You could push Stiles away. You could run from here like you’ve tried so many other times...but it won't matter. In the end, whether it's tomorrow or 20 years from now, you will find Stiles at your doorstep. Like you always do.”

“And if that's not what I want? Huh? To find Stiles at my doorstep?”

Deaton just smiles again. “You can lie to everyone around you, Derek. But you can't lie to yourself. You never could.”

 

***~~***

 

Stiles doesn't find his way back to Derek’s doorstep. 

And Derek smashes the coffee table he built with his own hands into a thousand pieces when he realizes everything that Deaton said to him was right.

When Isaac shows up at the loft; months of silence between them echoing through Beacon Hills like a siren in the distance where you can hear it but not see where it is coming from, he knocks, which makes Derek sadder than it should. Derek lets him in with even more silence between them. 

Isaac stands, hands in his pockets, despairingly close to the door, unable to make real eye contact with his once Alpha. Derek knows the last time they really spoke he had kicked Isaac out of the loft, hurting Isaac in ways that embedded themselves so deep inside the boy that Derek is sure have yet to wear off. Derek was able to feel the betrayal and sadness and abandonment radiating from the already broken and beaten down teenager that night and he can still sense uncertainty from Isaac which just makes Derek question even more why he would return to the scene of the crime.

In more ways than one. 

“So, uh, hey.” Isaac forces out, in almost a whisper. As much as Isaac has grown into himself; as a human and a wolf; his insecurities still haunt him. Derek knows that feeling well.

Derek gives him a small nod and steps away from the door, hoping that Isaac feels more comfortable and will follow him in. He doesn't. 

“Listen, I know we haven't talked in a while...and a lot has gone down. We all heard about Cora leaving and we just..I guess the main reason I’m here is to see if you’re alright.” Isaac stands up a little straighter with each word he speaks to Derek. Derek nods again at him. 

“I’m alright. I am.” Derek folds his arm. “Is there another reason you’re here?”

Isaac rubs the back of his neck and his mouth turns in an uneven expression. “Stiles.”

Derek hates the way his entire body tenses at the name. The way it rolls off Isaac’s tongue as he’s gotten to know Stiles in a way he never has before. The way he says it with such hesitation because somehow he’s invaded Derek’s mind and read his innermost thoughts and knows it will affect him somehow. And the way Isaac still can’t look him in the eyes even minutes after he utters Stiles’ name. 

“What about him?” 

Isaac finally makes eye contact with Derek; his eyes flashing the beta brown that Derek is so proud of. “You know what.”

Derek sighs, shaking his head. “I find it odd that you all come to me with problems but never want to follow.”

“This isn't about following you as a God damn leader, Derek. This isn't about Alpha packs or dark druids. This isn't about your psycho uncle or kanima’s or anything else that has infected this town. This is about Stiles. Just Stiles. And he’s in bad shape. He won’t talk to us. He won’t let us help him. And Scott’s worried. I’m worried. And we didn't want to come to you. Especially Scott. He thought the idea was probably one of the most ridiculous that I’ve had. But he knows I’m right.” Isaac shoulders are back with confidence as the level in his voice rises and he steps toward Derek. 

“Right about what, exactly?”

“That you’re the only one who understands what he’s going through.”

Derek huffs. He’s trying so hard not to beg and plead Isaac to tell him exactly what’s happening with Stiles. His instinct to press his nose to Isaac’s neck so he can maybe smell the scent of Stiles on his skin is so overwhelming he’s finding it hard to breathe. 

“He wasn’t the only one that night that went into that tub of ice. So did Scott and so did Allison. They should understand what he’s going through. Not me.” Derek argues. 

Isaac gives a small nod. “You’d think that. But the issues Scott and Allison are having...they’re different. Scott’s have to do with his Alpha status. Allison...with…” Isaac diverts his eyes away from Derek’s face. “...Kate. But Stiles? It’s different. It’s like a darkness. And I know you get that.”

“I’m not good for him. I’m not good for anyone. If anyone should know that, it's you.”

“Maybe you’re right. You may have not been the best Alpha Derek, but you’re still you. And for some reason you and Stiles…” Isaac trails off, taking a deep breath with his entire body. “Listen. It doesn't make sense. To any of us. But just because we don't understand doesn't mean it isn't what’s best for Stiles. Or you. So please, Derek. Just be there for him. He’s was doing so well for a few weeks...and we know it's because he was with you.”

“I didn't do anything.”

Isaac nods and stuffs his hands in his pockets. “You do more than you know.” He swallows down whatever emotions that are brewing in his throat. “I’m still here, Derek. If you...ever need anything.”

Derek nods. “Thanks.”

“Yeah, so. Just...go see Stiles. Please? Don’t make the same mistakes again.” Isaac slides the loft door open, pausing for a minute. “If you’re still lonely, you don't need to be.”

Isaac words echo just like Stiles’ had. It sticks to the concrete walls and floors and slithers their way inside the cracks to make their home there along with the all the other screams and horrific things that have taken place there. 

When the door shuts it makes the usual clanging sound Derek has heard a thousand times since he moved in. But this is the first time the sound almost makes him cry.

 

***~~***

 

Derek has spent every day for the past 8 years avoiding fire. He hasn't done a good job. He’s burned everything around him that meant anything to him. He’s poured metaphoric gasoline on every inch of his life and let people in that have salivated to light the match to see it all go up in flames. 

And Stiles is yet another person with his fingers wrapped around a packet of matches just waiting for the opportunity to burn whatever is left of his pathetic life down around him. 

Derek knows it. 

And he’s never wanted to burn so badly in his life. 

But Stiles isn't a pyromaniac like the rest of the people Derek has let into his world. In fact, Stiles doesn't want to be holding the matches. He likes fire; Stiles wouldn't be who he is and do everything he does for the pack if he didn't; but he would be the first person to throw himself on top of Derek to keep him from burning. He already has. 

And that makes Derek panic. 

Which makes him push then pull...then push even harder. 

Which is how he got to where he is now. With Stiles in pain and Derek being part of the cause. Stiles is the kind of person who makes Derek realize he doesn't want to be alone. That he doesn't have to be like everyone keeps telling him. Stiles, with his own demons and darkness and heavy burdens that he shoulders with such grace, makes Derek want to be a better person. Not just for himself but for Stiles too. For the first time in a long time, Derek wants to make someone's life better instead of his own. 

Stiles’ own selflessness has buried itself under Derek’s skin. And after Isaac’s visit Derek realizes now he needs to do this for Stiles. This could be his new path. Being able to help and offer advice instead of barking orders and interfering when he knows, damn well, just how capable these teenagers are of taking care of it all. 

So first thing he does, before he goes to see Stiles, is he goes to see Scott.

Scott has every right to be defensive. For Stiles, for Isaac, for the loss of Erica and Boyd. And for himself and pack he built without Derek’s help, way before Scott became the Alpha. He built that pack on his own with his loyalty and the loyalty of everyone around him. 

So both he and Derek stood off against each other in the Mccall foyer, arms crossed across their broad chests and eyes narrowed. They both knew why Derek was there, but that didn't mean either of them were going to back down any less. 

“I know why you’re here.” Scott finally says. He stands strong, it's what Scott does, but Derek could tell with every passing minute Scott’s demeanor changing. He does know why Derek is there, or who Derek is there to discuss, and when it comes to Stiles, Scott’s allegiance to him will always cause him to do what’s best. And right now Scott knows what's best for Stiles, is Derek. 

“I figured it would be best to talk to you before I do anything else.” Derek admits. Scott’s eyes widen a little and then he nods.

“I appreciate that.”

They both keep their defensive stance, but when Scott’s arms finally fall to the side, Derek releases some of his own tension. 

“We’ve all been going through stuff since that night. The night...you know…” Scott begins. Derek nods. “But Stiles...it's been the hardest on him. He’s there...but not there. Does that make sense?”

Derek remains expressionless. It does make sense; he’s seen it with his own eyes. But it's not something he necessarily wants to get into with Scott at the moment. 

Scott sighs. “I know...he’s was spending time with you. I know he came to you to try and help me.”

“I can’t help you.” Derek interjects. 

Scott frowns a little. “Can’t or won’t?”

Derek sighs heavily. “Your wolf if your wolf, Scott. You were bitten. I wasn't. Your anchor is different than mine. I can't help you control it any more than you’d be able to help me control mine. You need to find it yourself.” He pauses. “I’m sorry.”

Scott swallows. “I get it. I do.” He shifts his weight from one foot to another. 

“Are you okay? And Allison?” Derek asks sincerely. Scott’s eyes widen. More so that Derek asks about Allison considering the history. 

“Other than my whole shifting thing, yes. Allison, she doesn't talk much about her...issues. But I think what happened that night brought back some stuff about Kate.” Scott winces at the name that falls from his mouth. He eyes Derek cautiously. 

“We all have our demons.” Derek answers softly. 

“And Stiles?” Scott whispers. 

“What you guys did that night...you all essentially died. It takes a toll on the body and the mind.” Derek explains. 

“Did he say anything to you? Did he talk about it at all?” Scott asks, almost whispering. 

Derek knows how much it must kill Scott to have his best friend not be able to talk to him. To have experienced something so huge together but not be able to share the darkness together. But Derek doesn't know how to explain to Scott that there is no way to describe darkness. It's just there. It haunts. It takes. It consumes. It doesn't forgive and it doesn't forget. It makes you jaded. It hates. It makes you hate. It makes you forget you’re still alive. It doesn't recognize the difference between day and night. Right or wrong. 

“He didn't have to. He reeked of darkness.” 

“Yeah.” 

“Listen, you’re right. He was over my place. A lot. But I stopped it. I didn't think it was the best place for him to...get through what he was going through. I thought he should be with you or his father. But Isaac said…” Derek clenches his jaw. “I came to you because I’m not exactly everyone’s favorite person right now. And I know how protective everyone is of Stiles...but...I am too. Protective of him.”

Scott’s eyes flutter across Derek’s face. Derek knows Scott is waiting to hear the blip or skip of Derek’s heartbeat. He won't. He isn't lying. 

“I know.” Scott eyes him defensively. “What are you going to do?”

“Whatever Stiles needs.” Derek crosses his arms again as if doing that will make Scott unable to smell or sense the feelings pouring out of him in that moment. It doesn't work. Scott’s expression changes to a worried one. 

“Don’t hurt him.”

The statement holds a heaviness in the air and Derek realizes in that moment just how much of Stiles Scott has to let go of. He needs to let go of the fact that he may not be the only person in Stiles life now that is able to fix everything. Scott needs to let go of the fact that Derek may be a failure in so many respects, but when it comes to his best friend, Stiles may be the only thing Derek can fix. 

And there are things in that statement that make Derek realize what he needs to let go of too. He needs to let go out a lot of mistrust that has settled underneath his skin like a virus. Derek needs to let someone in just as much as allowing himself the opportunity to be let into someone else. He needs to be careful, not only with himself but with someone else now. He needs to make promises and keep them; not only for himself or Stiles, but for the other people in Stiles’ life. For Scott, his father. Stiles existence; his heart; all affect other people and Derek decides in that moment that Stiles’ happiness; his well-being; are far more important than any guilt or fear Derek has been holding onto for so long. Keep close to him like a security blanket so not another living soul could get inside his heart. 

But it's too late for that. Stiles had already found a way. And its time he knew it. 

“I won’t.” Derek answers. And he means it. 

 

***~~***

 

Derek wonders as he looks up at the window with the only light on in the house, if Stiles purposely still keeps his window open. Ever since that day a few years back when Derek had let himself into Stiles room; the first time Derek had laid his hands on the fragile teenager and smelled the fear and vulnerability and courage and want on his skin; Stiles had always left his bedroom window unlocked. With all the dangers in Beacon Hills; all the threats to his life and the people around him; Stiles keeps his window open for anyone or anything to get in. 

But he didn't. Stiles has been leaving it open all these years for Derek to get in. Derek knows that now. It's just a matter of what he is going to do with the information now. 

The sheriff's cruiser isn't in the driveway and Derek considers for a moment just knocking on the front door. It would totally throw Stiles off; and just the look on his face would be enough amusement for Derek, but this isn't about Derek. This is about Stiles and old habits die hard with them so he climbs up the old Oak outside Stiles’ window. It’s an oddly cool night and Stiles’ curtains blow into his room and it makes Derek yearn because he wonders, yet again, how many nights since he told Stiles to leave with the implication of never returning, has his window been open.

But Derek already knows the answer. 

When Derek’s boots make an alarmingly loud intrusion on the windowsill, Stiles jumps a bit in his desk chair but never turns to look toward the window at who or what could be coming to possibly get him. Stiles doesn't seem concerned with those type of things anymore; if he even ever was. 

Or he just knows Derek would eventually come. 

Derek doesn't want to overthink it. 

He watches as Stiles long fingers swipe against the keyboard of his laptop, his heart beat concerningly steady. As if even if it wasn't Derek at his window, he would more than welcome something else to come and take him into the darkness. Derek can smell the sadness coming off the boy. His heartbeat may be regular, but his body language and chemo signals are giving off waves of emotion that are making Derek’s wolf whine in despair and his human side long to save Stiles from the darkness Derek knows all too well. 

“Stiles.” He finally forces out after long minutes of tapping keys and even breathing. 

“Hmm?” Stiles murmurs as he squints at the screen and hits the backspace button a zillion times too many, erasing whatever he had written just minutes prior. 

Derek opens his mouth but he realizes he honestly doesn't know what to say. He knew he had to come. He wanted to come. But he didn't think about what he wanted or needed to say once he got into Stiles room. Face to face with the one person who now it seems make him lose all ability to speak. The irony is ludicrous. 

So Derek doesn't say anything. He just sits on the edge of Stiles’ bed and waits. 

Stiles doesn't speak at all. He answers a few texts on his phone, looks up research, types away at something Derek assumes he is writing for school, but never once says a word or looks in Derek’s direction. It should infuriate him. It doesn't. It just makes Derek sad. The need to touch Stiles, to be near him has his skin practically buzzing. He can't sit still. He rubs the palms of his hands across his jeaned knees and reads the names of Stiles books on his shelf over and over again until he could recite them with his eyes closed. He can't say how long he sat there in silence. But it was enough time that he decided maybe being there wasn’t what Stiles wanted. And maybe again, like everything else he did, he was being selfish because he was the one who wanted to be around Stiles. The one who missed him. 

Derek stands, giving one last look to the back of Stiles’ head before taking a few long strides back toward the window. He wraps his hands around the ledge and just before he is about to dive out of the window, possibly for the last time, he hears it. 

“So that’s it?”

Derek stills, but doesn't turn to look at him. “What’s it?”

“You come in through my window and expect me to jump up and down for joy and act as if nothing happened? And then when that doesn't happen you just leave? Without saying anything?” Stiles’ voice is cracking with emotion. Derek closes his eyes and chooses his words wisely. 

“Because this was so easy for me, right?”

Stiles slams his hand down, hard, on his desk. So maybe those words weren't as wise as Derek thought. 

“Don't you fucking dare play the victim here, Derek. You do it so fucking well, but don't. Not now. Not here with me.” Stiles screams. 

Derek finally stands and turns to Stiles. “Do you wanna be the victim then?”

“Why does ANYONE have to be the victim, Derek? Shitty stuff happens. To all of us. Isn't that what you were trying to tell me about my mom? That sometimes bad stuff just happens.” Stiles stands and stalks over to Derek, his eyes burning that honey brown color Derek needs so much. 

“Bad stuff happens to me because I’m a bad person, Stiles. Bad stuff happens to you because you insist on continuing to be around me.” Derek finally yells back. He can feel himself beginning to shift. 

“Oh, right. You are the root of all evil. Big bad wolf Derek. And what that makes me Little Red Riding Hood or something? Get over yourself, Derek. Stop giving yourself so much fucking credit. It's pathetic, really.” Stiles snorts, rolling his eyes. It makes Derek snarl. Stiles holds his ground. “Stop feeling sorry for yourself. Stop punishing yourself. “

Derek just snarls more, his shift in full swing now. His claws are digging into his palms and he can feel the blood dripping down his hand and onto Stiles carpet. Stiles either doesn't notice or doesn't care. But he’s not backing down. Derek could rip him to shreds, in so many ways, and Stiles could seem to care less. 

“You think you’re so smart.” Derek growls. “But you’re an idiot. You keep putting yourself in these life and death situations. But you don't get it. If something happens to you…” 

“What? Say it. If something happens to me…” Stiles annunciates the last word, raising his eyebrow as if he was trying to imitate Derek. 

“Stiles…” Derek warns. 

“You know for someone who acts all tough and grr and threatens to rip people’s throats out with their teeth you’re nothing but a fucking coward.” Stiles backs up, shaking his head. “Just go.”

“I’m a coward? I’m here aren't I?” Derek snaps his jaws forward towards Stiles. 

“Give the werewolf a medal! He climbed through a fucking window.” Stiles rolls his eyes, goes to turn away and then stops himself. “You know what? Fuck you. You are a coward. I practically threw myself at you-”

“That’s what this is about? The kiss?” Derek scoffs. 

Stiles sputters. “Well, YES. Why the hell else would you be here?”

“Uh…” Derek retracts his teeth. “Because I was worried about you. Isaac said-”

“Isaac said WHAT?” Stiles flails like a girl. Derek almost smirks. 

“That you...-wait.” Derek stops. “Oh my god.” He narrows his eyes at Stiles. “Who did you tell?”

“Tell? Tell what?” Stiles squeaks. Derek just crosses his arms. “Okay, okay. I might have let it slip to Lydia.” Derek raises an eyebrow. “And Allison.”

Derek sighs heavily and throws his arms up. “I was fucking set up. That little bastard.”

“Do you wanna fill me in here? I’m sort of lost.” 

“You told Lydia and Allison. Who told Isaac. Who then in turn came to me telling me how badly you were doing with the whole practically dying thing. Which is why I’m FUCKING here. Christ, Stiles, I even went to Scott to make sure it was okay to come to you.” Derek rubs his hands over his face. “Which Isaac knew I would do. I’m going to fucking murder them. All of them.”

Stiles mouth hangs open. “You went to Scott?” 

Derek nods.

“I...wow.” Stiles shakes his head. “I don't know what I’m more surprised at. The fact that Isaac and all them were smart enough to come up with this little scheme to get you here...or that you actually fell for it.”

“I’d always come if you needed me.” Derek admits and that's when he feels it. He feels his life begin to change. The expression on Stiles face. The way Stiles heart uptakes at Derek’s words and the way his scent goes from anger and frustration to want and longing. Stiles eyes shimmer with a color Derek has never seen before and it literally makes Derek gasp low in his throat. He’s completely shifted back to his human side and how he’s waiting for Stiles to say something but it's possible Stiles has used his entire vocabulary yelling at Derek just a few minutes ago. But no matter, the world has shifted; the air in the room is thicker and it's making Derek barely able to breathe. 

And Stiles seems to be barely breathing as well. 

“So you’re...alright?” Derek finally finds some air to ask. 

“I...yeah. I guess. I mean I still have nightmares, but I got through the worst of it.” He pauses. “Because of you. I guess I’ve just been sad cause...I missed you.”

“I missed you too.” The words escape Derek’s mouth so suddenly he doesn't have a chance to think about it or take them back into his throat once they have escaped. But the way Stiles is looking at him, he doesn't want to. He’d say anything in this moment to keep that look on Stiles face. That goofy smirk like he just found out the biggest secret in the world and is just bursting at the seams to tell someone. 

To scream from the top of lungs that Derek Hale has a heart. And it belongs to Stiles Stilinski. 

Derek has always been the type to have the need to be in charge. Its why he took the Alpha spark from Peter instead of letting it cure Scott. It's been a desire to lead and have people follow. This conscious need to stand tall and make all the decisions, good or bad, and expect people to listen no questions asked. He’s learned the hard way that he was never meant to be a leader. He was never meant to be in charge of anyone or anything, and the idea of handing the reigns over to Scott destroys him in ways he never thought possible. He feels like a failure; to the Hale territory, to his mother and to himself. 

But with the way Stiles is looking at him; like he sees none of the things Derek hates most about himself; it makes Derek weak in all the best possible ways. 

Derek has never been able to hide from Stiles. Stiles was onto him from the very beginning. Never afraid. Calling Derek out on all his bullshit, mistakes and even his mini victories. He never sugar coated anything when it came to Derek; never lied, and never hid anything from Derek either. He was open from the beginning and it caused Derek to be torn open like an open wound to rub salt in. Stiles cuts him open; and his insecurities spill out of him. And Stiles never waivers. Never runs. He picks up the guts of Derek’s deepest fears and doubts and tends to his wounds with gentleness and stitches him up to go back out into the world to try all over again. 

“I can’t believe you like...talked to Scott. About me. Did you go to my Dad too and ask permission to court me?” Stiles snorts. 

“Do you want me to?”

Stiles flails. Literally flails. “What!? I...wait. Do you want to court me?”

Derek shrugs. “A little old fashioned but if it's what you want.”

Stiles sputters; spit flying from his lips as he makes odd noises from his throat, trying to comprehend everything that is transpiring between them. “I...what?”

“What?”

Stiles throws his arms out in front of him. “Are you just going to keep answering questions with questions!?”

“Should I?”

Stiles screams. “I need to sit down. Or lie down. Or die. Any one of those would be preferred.” He sits on the edge of his bed, but only for about 3 seconds before he jumps back up and begins to pace. “Okay, so you came here to make sure I was okay, right?”

Derek nods.

“And it had nothing to do with the fact that we like...made out that night?”

Derek shrugs. 

And Stiles screams again. “Can you just give me one straight answer?”

“Choose wisely.” Derek raises an eyebrow at him and almost smirks. 

Stiles takes a deep breath and wrings his hands together. “Fuck. I know if I don't word this question the exact right way you’re gonna pull a Derek on me and answer all mysteriously and I still won't have an answers.”

Derek actually feels bad for the almost legal adult and grabs Stiles’ elbow as he breezes past him in one of his thousand paces. “Stiles. Relax.”

“Relax?” Stiles pulls away making jazz hands into the air. “Do you have any idea what all this new information is doing to me right now?”

“And it's not new information to me? You don't think I’ve been agonizing over...THIS-” Derek points between them; “-for a while now? Even before you showed up at my place, refused to leave and then kissed me?”

“Hey!” Stiles points a long finger at him. “You kissed me too.”

“Your point?”

Stiles stammers. “My point!? My point is...you’re stupid!”

Derek cocks an eyebrow. 

Stiles sits down on the bed again. “What the hell is going on, Derek? Seriously.”

Derek swallows and sits gingerly next to him on his small twin size mattress. Stiles tenses and Derek mimics his movements.

“I was worried about you. I shouldn't have kicked you out like I did. I freaked out. You needed someone and you came to me and yes, the kiss happened-”

“Twice.” 

Derek sighs. “-Twice. Yes. And the reasons you did it don't honestly matter. I took all my shit out on you and I said things I never should have said. You were only trying to help. It's what you always do. No matter what kind of pain you’re in, you always seem to put someone else before you. It's one of the things that infuriates me about you. But it's also one of the things I love the most.”

Stiles’ head turns ever so slowly to look at the werewolf. “What?”

“You gonna make me say it again?”

“You won't even if I wanted you to.” Stiles mutters. He shifts his body so one leg is propped on the floor and the other is bent under his knee. He looks into Derek’s eyes and Derek has to look away almost instantly. He’s already to open; ripped apart so Stiles can see everything; and anymore would be just too much to bare. 

“As long as you’re okay. That’s what’s important.”

Stiles nods, bringing his lips into his mouth. “Well now that that's settled.”

“Mmm.” Derek looks toward the window as if just to make sure it's still open and readily available if he needs to make a quick getaway. Stiles looks toward the curtains still dancing in the cool night air. 

“Why did you kiss me back?” Stiles whispers. “If you didn't want to…”

“I never said that.” Derek looks at him, trying his hardest not to have his usual resting bitch face. “But I think the more important question that should be asked is why you kissed me.”

It takes Stiles a while to answer. Derek can smell the nervousness radiating off of him but he isn't sure if his delay in answer is due to the fact is he really isn't sure why he decided to lay one on Derek or if he’s weighing the truth a little too heavily. 

“I think it was more for you, than me.”

Derek furrows his eyes. “How so?”

“So you knew.”

“Knew what, Stiles?”

And there he goes looking at Derek again with those fucking eyes. They suck all the air right out of the room. 

“That someone wanted to without expecting or wanting anything else from you in return. That the attraction was just there. That someone cared and didn't want to use you for their own advantage. Even though it was a little selfish on my part because I did get something out of it, but it was just the normal teenage stiffy you would expect from a 17-year-old guy.”

And then it happens. Derek smiles. 

And as Stiles’ eyes widen from the sudden shift in the earth’s gravitational pull. So before he can flail and sputter more incoherent words out of his mouth, Derek puts his own mouth over it. 

Stiles tastes the same as he did a few weeks ago. Innocent, fruity but a bit bitter from the Adderall, but just what Derek had been craving for so long. He had no idea he was missing it from his life; even though he knew for years something had always been missing per say; but he never knew it would be from a hyperactive teenage boy. It should worry him. He should run, push, hide; but he can't. He won't. All those other people he had given his heart to seemed so easy, but they turned out to be a wolf in sheep's clothing. Derek was already a wolf and Stiles was the completely wrong person he should be kissing right now. He could think of 9 reasons in 2 seconds why this is probably the worst thing he could possibly do but he didn't care. He should, but he just doesn't. 

Because Stiles is making these adorable pleased sounds as Derek licks into his mouth; over his teeth and all the way back where Derek can taste the French fries still on his taste buds from lunch. It’s an uncomfortable position the way they are turned toward each other on the edge of the bed. And Stiles is trying to get closer but Derek isn't making it easy for him. In fact, he’s making it difficult on purpose. He enjoys the frustrated groans and whimpers that keep escaping his lungs as Derek sucks on the tip of his tongue before biting down on his lower lip. When Stiles finally fumbles on to his knees and pushes Derek back on the bed, he gasps and pulls away with typical Stiles flail when Derek’s head hits the wall. 

Hard. 

“Oh fuck. Shit. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m not good at this whole seduction thing! No one has ever...you know...been on my bed before. Christ I’ve never even been in bed with anyone else-” Suddenly he stops talking and his face turns the brightest crimson. “Aaaaaaaaaaaand I just admitted I’m a virgin. Awesome. How hot am I right now?” Stiles buries his face in his hands. 

Derek sits up, the short pang of pain he felt just seconds before gone and he wrestles Stiles long fingers away from his face. “Stiles. First of all, you don't need to seduce me. I’m here. I kissed you. And I don't care who you’ve been in bed with...or not in bed with.” He’s grateful Stiles is only human and can't hear the uptake in his heartbeat as he lies. “And the fact that you’re a virgin?” Derek leans in, whispering over Stiles plump pink kiss-stressed lips. “Is really hot.”

Stiles gulps and his entire body shudders at Derek’s words. “What is happening right now? Like is this real?”

Derek nods. “Stiles. I need to tell you something before we do anything else.”

“Oh God, are you dying? You don't look like you’re dying. Unless you have some kind of weird werewolf disease. Are there weird werewolf diseases?” Stiles pulls back, pupils as wide as dinner plates. 

“Stop. No. When we kissed, at the loft. Did you feel anything...different?” Derek asks apprehensively. 

“You mean other than my raging hard on?”

Derek narrows his eyes. 

“Um. No. Why?”

Derek licks his lips. “Your eyes. They turned silver.”

Stiles gives him a lopsided look and then rolls his eyes. “Oh, that? I know.”

Derek pulls back. “You...what?”

“Oh, yeah. Scott told me it happened and I went to Deaton like right after we went all “sacrificy” in the ice bath.” Stiles sits back on his heels. “Why, did it freak you out?”

“I...I went to Deaton too. I asked him-” Derek growls. “He acted like he didn't know. He told me...Oh Jesus Christ.” 

And Stiles laughs. In fact, he laughs so hard, with his entire body, that he falls back onto his bed, his legs hanging over the side and covers his face with his hands. His whole body is convulsing as he laughs. “Dude...you...oh my God...you got played by EVERYONE. They were all in on it. Operation ‘get Derek to make a move on Stiles’. Oh shit. I can't. Ow. My spleen hurts.”

Derek pounces on top of him and grabs his hands, pushing his arms above his head. Stiles’ face is red from laughing. He's still giggling even as Derek snarls at him. “You think this is funny?”

Stiles nods furiously. “I think it's fucking hilarious.”

Derek wants to be mad. Deep down he’s furious that everyone had this elaborate plan against him to finally get him to, as Stiles put it, make a move on Stiles. They toyed with his emotions about Stiles well-being; baiting him and making him worry. But it also makes him realize how much Stiles must have been yearning...wanting Derek if his friends, and local veterinarian would go along with a scheme just so Stiles could get the one thing he wanted. 

Derek. 

Stiles continues to giggle and wiggles his lean body underneath Derek’s. Derek can see the vein straining in Stiles neck as he laughs and without any more hesitation he latches his mouth onto it, sucking and licking and nipping at the pale soft skin there. Stiles’ giggles immediately turn to filthy pornographic sounds and his fingers dig into Derek’s scalp. 

“Holy shit. This is really happening. Go Team Stiles.”

“Shut up, Stiles.” Derek mumbles against the wet, puffy skin on his neck. Stiles just strains it more so Derek can really get in there and go to town on his jugular and continues to chant glorious praises in Derek’s name. Derek can feel the bulge of Stiles’ notably impressive ‘stiffy’ through his sweatpants and Derek both curses and praises himself for wearing such tight jeans tonight. Because his own dick is being crushed with cramped denim, but he knows Stiles can FEEL how much he wants him through said inflexible jeans. And Stiles can. He keeps bucking his hips up, trying to grind more into Derek’s pelvis for more and more friction. 

“Do you want me to take these off?” Derek licks up the side of Stiles’ neck to his cheek. Yes, it's a bit...doggish, but Stiles doesn't seem to care. 

“Tell me first.” Stiles practically begs as he runs his hands up and down Derek’s biceps. 

“Tell you what?” Derek trails his fingertips along the waistband of Stiles sweats and smirks into his skin when goosebumps rise on Stiles’ stomach. 

“Why?” Stiles stills and Derek mirrors him. 

He presses his forehead into the side of Stiles’ face. Derek could go into a long drawn out detail of how Stiles scent that first afternoon in the preserve awoke something in him that Derek didn't even know was asleep. How Stiles helped him learn to trust again in an innocent, non-complicated, perfect kind of way. He could go on for hours about the color of Stiles eyes or the precise way Stiles uses his fingertips to map out the surface of everything around him. He could tell him how Stiles makes him want to be a better person. That he makes Derek realize he doesn't want to be alone. That Stiles makes him feel needed and wanted in a way that doesn't make his skin crawl or that his world is about to go up in flames. He wants to tell Stiles that everyone in Derek’s life has burnt down everything around him, but all he wants to do is burn with Stiles. 

Derek could give Stiles a thousand adjectives about how he feels about him. The things he loves, the things he doesn't which just makes Stiles that much more human and real because even his flaws Derek adores. But Derek has never been much of a talker; Stiles does that enough for the both of them; so why start now? Instead he just kisses the side of Stiles head, right on his temple and breathes in the bittersweet scent that Derek wants to inhale for the rest of his life. It’s starting to finally override the stench of smoke and Derek’s tongue doesn't taste like ash anymore. 

“Because it's you.” Derek states simply. It's the most honest he’s ever been in his life. The statement holds so much and as Stiles stretches his neck to look into Derek’s eyes he knows Stiles gets the weight of his words. 

Stiles’ kisses after that are different. More open; as if he’s kissing Derek now with his entire soul. And as much as Derek wanted Stiles naked just seconds ago, now he doesn't care how much clothes he has on. Derek just wants HIM. Holding him, smelling every emotion coming off Stiles’ skin is enough for him. It's always been enough he realizes. The vibration of Stiles’ heartbeat echoing through Beacon Hills has always anchored him down. He belonged to Stiles long before he wanted to. His wolf needed it; craved it; and now that his human heart had caught up with the wolf, it's as though whatever burden Derek felt he had to carry around with him as punishment for his mistakes, has melted into Stiles skin. 

Derek’s fingertips dip underneath the waistband of Stiles sweatpants and he can feel the soft mound of hair there right under the soft trail that grows so perfectly down his stomach. Whimpers pour from Stiles’ throat and Derek just continues to kiss him as he gradually and slowly pushes down the piece of clothing that is keeping him pleasing Stiles in ways he’s yet to experience. They pool at Stiles’ ankles and he tries to kick them off with socked feet but fails and sighs exasperated from the effort. 

“Leave em. It's fine.” Derek murmurs against his cheek and he finally gets his hand wrapped around Stiles’ cock. 

“Oh fuck.” Stiles breathes out as Derek squeezes gently at the base of his shaft. “Not sure what your plans are but this is going to be embarrassingly short lived.”

“I don't care.” Derek licks over Stiles’ bottom lip. “We have forever.”

Stiles shudders at the words and Derek eyes the precum that bubbles over the tip of Stiles dick. “Christ. I never thought I’d get so turned on at the thought of that.”

Derek whines as he licks up Stiles’ neck over and over, getting their scents to mix together. Every person Derek has touched in his life; every person he has had in his bed; never compared to Stiles. Their smell, their skin. Their heart. Derek’s never wanted to belong to someone like he does with Stiles. He’s never wanted to consume someone with his entire life. Stiles takes the bad, and it's mostly bad, and just wants to add good into it. Derek is scared to death, but if this is how he will die, with Stiles scent mixed with his own, he welcomes it. 

He pumps Stiles cock slowly, savoring how Stiles feels in his hand; soft and hard at the same time. How wet he is as Derek whispers dirty things in his ear about how good he smells, how beautiful his cock is, how he wants to mark every inch of his skin with his mouth and his own cum. Stiles pants and grunts and bucks his pelvis up into Derek’s hand, begging with his body to please make him explode. When Stiles breathing gets more ragged and he squeezes his eyes shut Derek knows it’s time so he leans down, wrapping his lips around Stiles tip and hollows out his cheeks as he sucks the taste out of him. 

Stiles wails and releases his orgasm into Derek’s waiting mouth, his hands fisting into the comforter underneath him. He curses out Derek’s name and continues to pour the sweetest taste onto Derek’s tongue. Derek can feel his teeth begin to elongate and he snarls as he takes Stiles all the way down his throat and buries his nose into Stiles now empty balls. He continues to lick and suck and inhale everything about Stiles release until his dick falls flaccid on his tongue. He even takes his time taking Stiles from his mouth, making sure to wipe him completely clean. Maybe it's the wolf in him. Maybe it's just because he doesn't want to miss one drop of what Stiles just gave him. 

“Oh my God. I think you just sucked my brain through my dick.” Stiles hands are in his hair, pulling it every which way as he regains a normal heartbeat. Derek just kisses Stiles navel and rests his head against his stomach. He nuzzles his stubbled cheek against Stiles’ pale skin and feels Stiles fingers caress the top of his head. Derek purrs, satisfied and happy for the first time in a long time. 

“What about you?” Stiles whispers. Derek just moves his head back and forth on Stiles stomach.

“Cum in your pants?” Stiles jokes and Derek nods. He hears Stiles giggle above him and he slaps Stiles leg playfully. “Sorry dude. It's hot and funny at the same time.”

They lay like that for a while, their heart beats and breathing finally falling perfectly into sync. Stiles just scratches at Derek’s scalp while Derek runs his fingertips all over any available skin he can reach. He’s happy and Derek can smell the happiness coming off Stiles skin. 

“It’s gone now.” Stiles says softly. Derek finally lifts his head; a little light headed and looks at Stiles. His cheeks are still flushed, his eyes hooded with sleepiness. 

“What is?”

Stiles cocks his head and runs his fingers through the front of Derek’s now bedhead. “The darkness.” 

Derek remains quiet as Stiles looks at him and it rips him even more open that he already was. 

“What are you feeling?” Stiles asks with a small voice as if he’s scared as to the answer. His heartbeat skips a little and it makes Derek’s own heart break. He doesn't want Stiles to be afraid to ask him anything. Maybe the answers won't always be what he wants, but it will always be the truth. 

That much Derek can promise.

“That I’m not alone anymore.”

Stiles closes his eyes and smiles, running his blunt nails behind Derek’s ear. “Oh, Sour wolf. You never were.”

 

** 6 MONTHS LATER: **

 

_“STILES!!”_

Derek’s boots crunch the dead leaves and sticks on the ground as he rushes past trees he’s been running through for most of his life. He knows this preserve with his eyes closed and he knows that heart beat and scent better than his own. He’s close; Stiles isn't too far now and he’s going to literally kill him as soon as he gets to him; but he just needs to GET to him. 

Derek can hear the rest of the pack behind him; and even though Derek isn't the leader, the “Alpha”, he is still in front for this fight because well it's Stiles. And Scott, Isaac, Allison...they all know when it comes to Stiles you just need to let Derek go. 

He told Stiles not to come along. He did the research, he helped with the stake out, but when it came down to the actual capture, Stiles needed to sit this one out. And now just by Derek and the packs demands; his father had been starting to put his foot down as well when it came to all the dangerous situations Stiles seems to find himself in. And the last time with the Wendigo…

Derek sails right over the large rock near when it all started a few years ago; right where Scott got bit; and skids to a stop on all fours. The air reeks of sulfur and all he can make out through the smoke is Stiles’ silver eyes. 

The packs slides next to him not seconds later, cemented where they stand in shock. 

And as shocked as Derek is, and still pissed beyond belief, he has pride pouring from him at the sight in front of him. 

Her body; a body Derek once knew intimately; burns on the ground with leaves and branches as Stiles stands over her body, the palms of his hands still smoking from whatever type of fire he had ejected from them and into Kate. Stiles turns to look at him, his eyes finally shifting back to their normal honey brown and Derek falls to his knees. He whines; not for the loss of the woman currently burning; but for what it means to Derek. He knows now why Stiles went against everyone's wishes to pursue Kate on his own. Why he’s been working with Deaton so closely to harness his power in a healthy not black magic kind of way. 

He did it for Derek. He wanted to be the one to kill Kate once and for all. 

For all she had done to him and his family. For all the hate and mistrust and darkness she had burned into Derek’s heart. And for Derek so he could finally just let go. 

Stiles knew, no matter how happy Derek was with him, he still woke up from nightmares in a cold sweat. Stiles would be there, right next to him, shushing him, holding him, telling him it was just a dream and she's gone now.

But then, as if by some cruel joke, she comes back. Powerful. Dangerous. And barely human anymore. 

The pack stepped up; in the months that Derek and Stiles had been Derek and Stiles, Derek had positioned himself nicely into the role of Scott’s beta. Making amends for all his wrongs, and becoming an asset instead of the problem. 

Even though Stiles tells him all the time he was never a ‘problem.’

Isaac’s hand falls to Derek’s shoulder, squeezing with loyalty, still, and Scott is next to him seconds later helping him to his feet. Stiles walks to him, still smelling of smoke and for once it's the best scent Derek could inhale right now. He pulls Stiles flush against him and rubs his nose into Stiles neck, scenting him, making sure that with all the power still coursing through Stiles’ body, that he’s still the man he loves. That he’s still Stiles. 

Taking a life will change him. Derek knows it. Derek knows there will be sleepless nights to come no matter how victorious Stiles and the rest of the pack feel in this moment. Stiles will have to forgive himself for what he’s done, and possibly even Derek for what he did for him. And even though Derek never expected or asked him to do it, there will be resentment when Stiles feels like he can't wash his hands enough to get the metaphoric blood off. 

But right now, all Derek wants to do is hold him. Make sure she didn't hurt him. At least not physically. 

“I couldn't let her hurt you. Not again.” Stiles hiccups into Derek’s shoulder. He just holds Stiles tighter and allows himself to cry for the first time in a sea of years that seem to have passed over him like a high tide. The soon to be summer air breezes over them as the rest of the pack stand and watch as Kate Argent burns into the night. Allison, whom Derek would think would take it the worst, stands next to Scott with her hand in his, watching as her nightmares finally go up in flames. She would never be like her. Ever. 

Derek hears Isaac mumble in the background how they should call Chris Argent and when no one moves he makes his way deep into the woods to make the call. What could Allison possibly say? Derek can feel the relief emitting from her skin and he figures it's the last thing she would want to share with her father. 

“I love you.” Derek chokes out through unfamiliar tears. It's all he can think to say to the person who just made the source of every piece of darkness in his life disappear. Stiles sighs happily in his arms and brings his lips up to the shell of Derek’s ear. His hot breath causes Derek to tremble and his declaration causes a hike in Stiles heartbeat. No matter how powerful Stiles was becoming, he was still just a boy...a man. He was still human. 

“You’re welcome.”


End file.
